Remember Me When
by IdleWit
Summary: "It's going to be like this forever, right?" Like what?" "Us four together forever. Perfect?" "Yeah perfect..."  If Charles Bass had a chance to summarize his life in one word before he died, he probably would have said regret.
1. Chapter 1

_Remember Me When I am Gone Away_

_Remember me when I am gone away,  
Gone far away into the silent land;  
When you can no more hold me by the hand,  
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.  
Remember me when no more day by day  
You tell me of our future that you planned:  
Only remember me; you understand  
It will be late to counsel then or pray.  
Yet if you should forget me for a while  
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:  
For if the darkness and corruption leave  
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,  
Better by far you should forget and smile  
Than that you should remember and be sad._

_by __Christina Rossetti_


	2. Remember Me When

**Remember Me When...**

_Charles Bartholomew Bass son of the late Bart Bass died at the age of nineteen. He was shot in the back by a mugger in Prague. _

_Charles Bass left behind the Empire hotel ,and the club Victrola, along with a sizeable bank account. He was a promising young business man whose life was cut short before his prime. _

Those were some of the words used in the short article reporting on Charles Bass' death.

If Charles Bass had a chance to summarize his life in one word before he died, he probably would have said _regret_.

* * *

_Love of mine some day you will die  
But I'll be close behind  
I'll follow you into the dark_

* * *

Probably one of the worst things was that she hadn't thought of him. That whole time, until the words left her mothers mouth, he probably hadn't passed her mind for a second. And she felt guilty about that.

But she knows that the worst thing was that everything was destroyed with that one phone call...and sometimes she wishes they could have continued in their blissful ignorance for just a little while longer. And she feeels the guiltiest about that, but she can't help wishing it sometimes.

She had just gotten up. She'd been sitting on the bed, legs crossed, the windows open allowing the cool breeze to waft in. She had smiled as she watched the curtains, thinking that Blair would have loved the white lace lifting and falling like something from a movie. Now all that was needed was for a Prince to call up to the balcony from the street down below. Thinking of a Prince made her smile drop and she bit her lip, turning her eyes away from the balcony they drifted to her suitcase, as she thought of the two princes she had run from.

She sighed, combed her tangled blonde tresses with her hand, and impulsively grabbed a room service menu from the nearby table. They were staying at a hotel near the heart of Paris, it was five star of course because Blair wouldn't have anything less (even though Serena had tried to persist that the only way to live in Paris was to rent out a flat somewhere and explore the sights like a local. Blair had turned up her nose and said that she wasn't going to enjoy Paris as a commoner).

Serena tried to turn her mind from her friend, who was worrying her, and tried to focus on something a little simpler, choosing what to eat for breakfast. As she was browsing through the menu, her eyes flicking from one thing to the next, the phone rang.

Serena sometimes wondered after, how the rest of what promised to be a perfect day would have played out, if she hadn't answered that call. She liked to believe her and Blair would have gone shopping, bought some dresses, talked to some cute boys. Rented out a Vespa and had a ride, and stumbled in at one in the morning laughing and tired and completely content, no heartbreak, no sadness, just life. One more perfect day, one last perfect day before the world crumbled.

She likes to think that she had hesitated before answering that phone, like she sensed something was wrong. Because it just didn't seem right that she didn't even sense something, that she was so perfectly happy, filled with trivial concerns when something so monumental had happened. The truth was that she hadn't sensed a thing. She had picked up the phone like any other call, quickly rolling her eyes in anticipation of hearing her Mom's voice on the other end. She'd answered as she usually did.

"Mom I've hardly been out of the city for a day and you're already checking up on me?" she said, a bit of teasing in her voice, a bit of true frustration.

"Serena honey, are you sitting down?"

"Mom what's wrong?" Serena had rarely seen her mother cry, because she'd rarely done it in front of Eric and her, not like this, not the chocked up sound she could hear on the phone. She felt fear clutch at her chest as her mind ran over all the things that could have happened to make her Mom sound that way, to make a waterfall open rather than a few glistening drops.

Out of all the people they'd left back in New York, which one had brought this on?

CeeCee? Rufus? Nate? Dan? Eric? Please don't let it be Eric, she sent the thought out there in case anyone was listening. She felt guilty after, because she had never thought it would be_ him_...

* * *

When she first hears it she doesn't believe it. It's absolutely ridiculous of course. This sort of thing didn't happen to people like _them_. This sort of news didn't come to people in beautiful places. Nothing bad could ever happen in the back drop of Paris.

The hard thing was she hadn't been there to hear it herself, she supposes that was why she'd found it so difficult to believe. She'd been out having breakfast at one of her favourite Parisian restaurants'. Serena had felt lazy as she usually did and had opted to sleep in at their hotel room.

Blair had swiped her key in that shiny black machine and she heard the door click. Before she walked in she made sure to plaster a big wide smile on her face, because she was pretending that she was fine, and she if she was anything she was a perfect actress. Perfect at pretending to her friend, her father, Dorota, Nate (on the phone of course), to the people on the street, to the world at large. Pretending that her heart hadn't shattered and every few minutes, despite the back drop, despite the smell and sounds and sights, every moment all she could think of, all she could smell and see was _him_.

So Blair's regret wasn't that she hadn't been thinking of him, it was that she'd been mourning him when really back then she had nothing to mourn about, because there had still been hope. _Dum Spiro Spero _after all.

She'd walked into that room, a smile on her face. She'd thrown her red beret on the chair near the door, dropped her bag there too, talking as she worked to take her shoes off.

"So I tried that cafe you suggested it was horrible of course and the..." that was when she turned around and saw her friend. Serena had gotten up from where she was sitting on the bed, her arms were wrapped around her and the tears were falling. Blair trailed off, stunned for a second, then her usual friend gene kicked in. "Serena are you all right? Why are you crying?"

"Blair there's been a...an accident..." Serena knew it was a stupid use of a word, because getting shot is definitely no accident. It made it sound like he had fallen on the gun and it had just gone off right into his back. But she had stumbled for a better word, she was so confused she didn't know what else to say.

"Is it Eric?" Of course her mind flew to Eric, Serena had just been saying a few days that she was worried about leaving him alone.

Serena shook her head, she couldn't speak because her throat felt closed, she didn't want to have to tell Blair this, she hadn't wanted to hear it.

"Nate then? Serena _what_ is wrong," Blair demanded, grabbing onto her friends arms and almost shaking her in her frustration. Serena thought maybe Blair had known then. But Blair didn't want to believe it, she didn't want to believe...

"It's Chuck," Serena managed to choke out in between the tears and sobs.

* * *

_No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white  
Just our hands clasped so tight  
Waiting for the hint of a spark_

* * *

Jenny Humphrey read that Chuck Bass had died in a small article in the newspaper.

Jenny had dropped the coffee she had held in her hands, the hot liquid spilling all over the linoleum. She didn't even notice as she stared at the picture of Chuck in the newspaper (no doubt Lilly had chosen it). He was standing in a suit, not smiling exactly, looking at the camera with those dark eyes.

She remembered those dark eyes looking out at her from that red devils mask the first time she had met him. She remembered those dark eyes looking at her from heavy lids at his hotel suite. And she can't fathom how she'd never see them again, that they had been snuffed out.

In the picture he looked so much younger then she remembered him. Charles Bartholomew Bass, nineteen years of age, died... The words kept on jumping out at her until they blurred together. He was nineteen, that was so young. Chuck Bass didn't die at nineteen, people didn't die at nineteen, they just _didn't_...

She thought back on how he'd helped her unravel Serena's father's plan. She thought how ironic it was that two years ago he'd apologized for trying to take what she'd given willingly later. How funny it was that the actions of Chuck Bass were the ones to save her, even if he hadn't meant them to mean quite so much.

She remembered how he'd seemed truly sorry that night he'd first apologized to her, how alone he'd looked, and lost, and despite herself she'd started feeling bad for him then, pittying how screwed up he was. She thought of the night they'd spent at the premier, before Blair showed up, and how he actually could make her laugh. And finally she thought of the warning he'd given her, about going down the rabbit that she looked back on it, he could have been a pretty good big brother, if they hadn't both been screwed up.

And though she felt a bit silly afterwards, Jenny Humphrey actually cried over the death of Charles Bartholomew Bass. Because he was someone she could have admired, maybe even cared about, if things had turned out differently.

She rung Rufus and Dan, just to let him know that she loved them. She sent Eric an email and even sent two tentative texts to Nate and Serena sending her condolences, though she got no texts back from them, she wasn't expecting any. She didn't have Blair's number, but she didn't think she'd want to hear from her anyway.

And Jenny spent that night with her Mom eating ice cream, watching cheesy movies and being grateful that she had people who loved her. Grateful that it still wasn't too late for _her_ to fix the life she had messed up.

* * *

It's funny how you remember the stupidest things at the most monumental of times, and how they seem to mean so much.

Nate standing there in black could only think of the time Chuck and him had gotten into their first 'bar fight' together.

They were fourteen and had gotten into some night club, the four of them, on fake ID's and Carter Baizen's intel.

Serena had immediately angled for the bar, Blair disapprovingly in tow. Chuck had merged into the crowd, looking for some loose girls to talk to and Nate had followed behind to be his friends wingman and share in some drinks (not the action of course because he was with Blair).

Lilly having run off with yet another flame, had typically left behind an unstable Serena. So of course Serena was already pretty waisted by the time they had reached this particular place. Retrospectively it was no surprise then that while Nate was sipping at a rank tasting martini with Chuck on a couch (and a blonde perched on Chuck's knee) Serena had managed to climb onto the bar in her skimpy dress and high heels.

When Nate looked up to see the familiar blonde tresses being flicked wildly about as Serena laughed and danced he practically spat out the mouthful of drink he'd just taken.

"Hey, what's your problem," the blonde on Chuck's lap disengaged from his face and looked disgustingly at Nate.

"Nathanial if you're planning on spraying it not saying it I'm going to have to ask you to find another couch," Chuck had drawled, looking at his friend in annoyance.

"Man look," he said urgently, nodding his head towards the bar where Serena was dancing and Blair was attempting to drag her off the table. Chuck looked to where his shocked friend was indicating and smirked.

"And that is how one parties," he said, giving Serena a once over. Nate coloured slightly.

"Shouldn't we go help Serena?" he said, not liking the way Chuck was checking her out.

"I don't really think she's looking for your type of help Nathanial," Chuck said, turning back to the blonde. "Now where were we..."

Nate swore, as he looked back at Serena anxiously. There was a group of guys who were surrounding her with money out. They looked much older and much too eager to Nate. Without a thought he got up and headed towards Serena and a struggling Blair

Looking up at his friend's exclamation Chuck watched as Nate got up and charged towards the bar.

"Is this going to happen or what?" the blonde asked disgruntled as she noted his attention wasn't on her.

"Not," Chuck sighed, he slid her off his lap unceremoniously and got up, shaking his head. "Nathaniel's lucky I'm fonder of brunettes," he muttered as he followed his friend through the crowd as Nate reached the bar.

"Finally I need your help to get her down," Blair said, grateful to surrender the situation to Nate. She'd been trying to pull her tall friend off the bar, but Serena was having none of it, and Blair's slight frame was no match to a drunken Serena. "I don't know why she always has to do this."

Nate didn't comment on this. He knew that sometimes it could be frustrating being Serena's best friend, but then again it could be frustrating being Blair's best friend too. Nate simply pushed his way through the guys surrounding the bar and quickly grabbed Serena's leg.

"Hey come on Serena why don't you get down now," Nate said, smiling up at her.

"Natie why don't you come up here and dance," Serena said laughing, she only ever called him Natie when she was drunk, and Nate felt his stomach give a little lurch at the name.

"Nah, I think it'd be better if you come down. I'll buy you a drink," he knew the best way to deal with Serena was to bribe her.

"Well I suppose," Serena pouted and she hesitantly stepped down with a lot of Nate's help.

"Thank goodness," Blair sighed, quickly running to grab Serena, "I thought she'd never come down."

"Hey," one of the drunk guys who had been enjoying the show protested, grabbing onto one of Serena's arms as Nate and Blair were about to lead her away. "Don't stop the show sweetie."

"Let her go," Nate snapped, pushing the guys hand away.

"Oh, big man huh?" the guy sneered, he was probably around sixteen, and much more developed then Nate as well as drunker. "And how are you gonna stop me," he grabbed Serena's arm again.

"Hey," Chuck snapped, Nate hadn't noticed but he'd come to stand by his side, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Yeah why not?" the guy challenged, glaring.

"You're Thornton aren't you? Well how would your Daddy like to know that you're the reason his deal with my Father fell through?" Chuck queried, cool and level headed.

"Who the hell are you?" the guy glared.

Chuck smirked, "I'm Chuck Bass," he stated clearly. "Come on Nathanial, Baizen never told us this club was full of so many low lives."

The guy shut up at this, because Chuck's threat was very real, everyone knew who Bart Bass was. He glared at the retreating Chuck and Nate, but he couldn't let the teens leave without the final say.

"I'll be seeing you later slut," he called, aiming his jibe at the inebriated Serena.

Nate saw red, leaving Serena in Blair's wide eyed hands he turned around.

"What did you call her?" he snarled, Chuck rolled his eyes; Nate was always one for dramatics.

" I just called her what she is, a slut," the guy said, smirking as his friends hooted.

Nate swung as hard and as fast as he could at the guy, and he missed as the guy dodged, over balancing he fell into some other people. And when he turned around the guy was ready to take a swing at him. And that's when Chuck came in, trying to push the guy away he took the hit meant for Nate.

"Shit," Nate said, quickly going over to his friend. "Are you all right man," Chuck was doubled over clutching his face and swearing. Nate had never seen his friend get into a fight, he was more of a schemer then a physical fighter.

"What the hell were you thinking," Blair screeched at the guy, she came to Chuck's side, dragging Serena with her.

"He got in the way," the guy said, he wasn't feeling so brave now that he'd hit Bart Bass' son.

"We're fourteen you pervy moron," Blair snapped, "How about picking on someone your own age you over compensating loser."

'I..." the guy spluttered as Blair glared at him. He didn't have a chance to say anything else as the bouncer came over to drag him out of the club.

"Oh my gosh Are you all right Chuck?" Serena asked, just noticing what had happened, her words slurred slightly.

"Do I look all right!" Chuck snapped angrily, looking up, his eye was already bruising. "That ass is going down."

"We'll make plans in the morning," Blair said primly, smoothing out her hair. "But I think we should get Serena to my place before she starts anymore fights. Dorota can help me to sober her up. " With that she looked at Nate, and he knew she was going to be having a talk with him tomorrow.

"Yeah we should probably get something on your eye too man," Nate said.

"My _eye_?" Chuck demanded, "I'm not just taking him down, he is going to _die_!"

After dropping off Serena and Blair they came back to the hotel. Nate had grabbed some ice for Chuck's eye while he had slumped on the couch. Then Nate had sat down next to Chuck on that old familiar couch.

"Thanks man," he'd finally said after a moment of awkward silence where Chuck had slapped the ice bag onto his face and sighed.

"What are friends for if not to take a punch now and then?" Chuck had shrugged as if it was no big deal, as if it was to be expected." But I'd appreciate it if next time Nathanial, you fight against someone whose at least the same age as us," he drawled.

"Sure," Nate had said grinning.

"We can always trust Serena to make a scene though," Chuck grinned, "Blair's probably going to be whinging about this for ages."

"Yeah..." Nate muttered, looking down at his sleeves awkwardly, Chuck noticed his non committal silence.

"You know you got pretty angry back there, over a stupid drunk..." he stated cautiously.

"Well he shouldn't have called Serena that..." Nate muttered, perhaps more aggressively then was necessary. He quickly looked up at Chuck who was gazing at him with no expression. "I mean she's our friend you know...he shouldn't have said that about her. You and Blair would have done the same thing...just in a less direct ways."

"Perhaps," Chuck shrugged smirking slightly. Despite Chuck's non committal answer Nate was sure he would have probably had the guy thrown out of the club without the need of a fist fight. Sometimes Chuck said things about Serena, and complained about Blair's whinging and occasionally called Nate an idiot, but he was always there when it counted, even if it was so subtle they didn't even notice.

"What are friends for if not to start fist fights to protect your honour right?" said Nate grinning, but he couldn't help noticing that he'd had to force out the word friend when he thought of Serena, and he had no idea why it was so hard. "I mean Serena may be a lot of things man, but we both know she's not a bad person. She's actually really great, she deserves better then asses like that."

Chuck looked at Nate as if he was seeing something new and Nate felt uncomfortable.

"You know Nathanial," Chuck finally said, he seemed to be choosing his words very carefully, "If you ever need to talk about stuff, anything... I'm always here to listen, no judgment. You know I've got your back right?"

"Uh all right man...," Nate said awkwardly, "Are you sure that guy didn't hit you a bit too hard."

Chuck grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it at him, hitting Nate in the face as he chuckled.

Nate wondered later if Chuck had known all along about how he felt for Serena, even before Nate really knew himself. But Chuck never had said anything. Maybe he knew that Nate needed to work things out for himself, in his own way. And Nate appreciated that, even though he hadn't realised it at the time.

The rest of that night had been spent playing video games. And Nate had fallen asleep, controller fallen to the floor, slumped over one arm of the sofa while Chuck was slumped on the other side his controller hanging from his limp hands.

He guessed it was that night he'd really appreciated the fact that he had a best friend. A guy who'd take a punch for him, a guy who'd listen to his problems, no judgment, no questions asked. And not many people on the UES could say that.

Chuck had always been there for Nate, had always had his back. Nate just wished that he could have returned the favour, and been there when Chuck needed him most.

Chuck Bass, Nathanial Archibald's best friend had been nineteen years old, when he had been shot and killed. And Nathanial Archibald, Chuck Bass' best friend, hadn't even been in the same country. And Nate regrets that more than anyone knew. He regrets that he didn't have his best friends back when he needed him the most.

* * *

Blair standing there in black, looking down at him, and all she could think of was a field trip they had in grade six.

It had been to the museum, they were studying the prehistoric age. They had been put into group of fours and given work sheets to fill out. Naturally Chuck, Blair, Serena and Nate had been put together.

Serena and Nate were more concerned with running around hiding among the exhibits. ("Come on Serena give back my pen please"). Blair had declared them completely juvenile and Chuck had smirked in agreement. Blair of course was focused on answering her sheet (which naturally the other three would probably copy off later). And for some strange reason instead of going off to smoke outside (he was a bad boy even then) Chuck stayed by Blair's side.

It wasn't like they weren't friends, it's just they didn't spend a lot of time together (beyond planning social destruction which both Serena and Nate were not equipped for). Chuck was Nate's best friend, Blair was Serena's, Serena was comradely with Nate, Blair was occasionally with Chuck, and everyone knew she had a crush on Nate, and that was how things were. But here was Chuck watching Blair as she filled in the sheet with her neat curling words in black ink.

"What are you looking at Bass?" she'd finally snapped in annoyance as he continued watching her.

"I'm just amazed your actually bothering to fill that sheet out," Chuck smirked, he was leaning against the bar which sectioned off the exhibit. It was a large replication of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, and Blair was gleaning the information for the sheet from the white plaque with small writing which stood in front of it.

"Well maybe if you filled it out you'd realise that you and the T-Rex have a lot in common," Blair had sniped, colouring in annoyance. She hated how Chuck always mocked her for being a goody two shoes, and was painfully aware that her crush was running around with the fun loving Serena (they could hear their laughter from here) while she was filling out her work sheet.

"Yeah, like what Waldorf?" he asked, seemingly genuinely curious he looked up at the dinosaur. "We both have amazing smiles? We're both predators?" He purred the last one out and Blair rolled her eyes at his smugness.

"No you both have amazingly small brains," she corrected, smirking slightly.

"Real witty Waldorf," he'd said, and he actually smiled at her, a real smile not a smirk and despite herself Blair smiled back, because it was so rare to ever see Chuck smile.

"I know," she said confidently. "But really you're too easy to insult."

"Please we both know who the T-Rex' out of the four of us are," Chuck said, glancing over at Serena and Nate who were pressing all the buttons on one of the displays. "And they're not us."

"Oh really," Blair had arched her eyebrow, "So then what are we?"

"Ever seen Jurassic Park Waldorf?" Chuck asked, smirking he glanced at her.

"Serena might have forced me to," Blair said airily.

"Well isn't it obvious then," Chuck said.

"What's obvious?" Blair asked, looking at him as he lent closer, as if he was telling her a secret.

"We're the raptors," Chuck whispered, grinning slightly.

"Actually I think you're more like the idiot who gets himself killed in the first few minutes of the movie," Blair said, quickly moving away from Chuck before Nate got the wrong idea (not like he was watching, he was too busy teasing Serena.) As she stepped back her clip board slipped off the stand she was resting it on and her pen bounced across the barrier.

"Now look what you did," Blair huffed, glaring at Chuck. "You're such a Basshole you know that."

Chuck laughed, "Come on it's not like Ms Prepared. Waldorf hasn't brought about ten pens to this field trip," he said as Blair glared at him.

"But that was my favourite," she protested, "Daddy bought it for me from Paris."

"Then go get it," Chuck shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

"Some of us don't want marks on their permanent record before they get to high school Bass," she'd snapped.

"It's not like anyone's around to catch you," Chuck said smirking. "Unless you're too scared to risk it."

"It's not like you would," Blair had fired back at his challenge.

"Want to bet?" Chuck had said, and before Blair could blink he ducked under the barrier and walked over to where the pen had fallen, straightening up he held it out to her.

"Your Parisian pen my liege," he said, pretending to bow, he'd always mocked her love of princesses and fairytales. But right then as he stood there with his head bowed and his hand held out, for the first time, Blair Waldorf actually thought that Chuck Bass had the potential to be a Prince and not just an annoying friend.

"Thank you," she'd said, taking it from him, but instead of letting go of her hand he'd pulled it up to his lips and given it a chaste kiss.

"Ewww Chuck," she'd protested after her initial shock had worn off, pulling her hand away from him. She blushed slightly because she knew from his satisfied smirk that she'd let him hold her hand longer then she should have.

She would write in her diary that night that Chuck Bass could never be a prince, because he was just too frustratingly annoying. But maybe, just maybe he could be a knight. And sometimes she'd smiled as she thought of his warm hand holding hers, and his chaste kiss.

His lips were warm then as they had touched her, his hand warm as it held hers.

Now it was cold, there was no more warmth left.

She thought maybe if she held on, maybe something would happen. Maybe he'd open those dead eyes and look up at her and smirk, and everything would be all right. Maybe she could transfer her warmth with that one touch, through his hand.

Nothing happened though; the body stayed that, just an empty body. Eventually Nate had to pull her away, because it was obvious she wasn't going to let go by herself.

She would have stood there waiting forever, waiting for his warmth to return.

* * *

_If Heaven and Hell decide  
That they both are satisfied  
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs_

* * *

Sometimes Dan Humphrey thought that Blair Waldorf blames him for Chuck's death. Sometimes he thinks she wishes he would replace Chuck in the bowels of hell. On the odd occasion he spotted her in New York, and she looked at him with those dark eyes, he definitely thought she did. Sometimes he wonders if she was justified.

Surprising himself Dan actually went to the funeral. He'd hired a suit and stood at the back out of respect. He'd watched Serena during most of it, which probably wasn't respectful, but he didn't think Chuck would have wanted him at the funeral anyway.

He tried calling Serena earlier, but she wouldn't answer his calls so eventually he gave up. He wondered if maybe she blamed him for Chuck's death too, but he thinks it's more than that. He saw her leaning her head against Nate as she cried, saw how Nate had wrapped his arms around her and let his tears fall silently where she couldn't see. He supposed Chuck's death had made them grow closer. He smiled wryly, trust Chuck Bass to destroy Dan's attempt to find happiness with Serena. Even in death he could screw Dan over.

It was funny how one punch could change things. After all if he hadn't punched Chuck then maybe he would have proposed to Blair (because even Humphrey wasn't clueless on the fact that he was about to kneel and pop the question.) Maybe everything would have played out differently and Dan would be the one sitting next to Serena and comforting her. Of course if things had played out differently Chuck Bass would probably not be dead right now and they wouldn't be at his funeral, unless his liver finally decided to give out.

It really was funny how one punch changed everything, possibly life and death. Dan thinks maybe he'll write a story about it, how one punch destroyed the world. But then he sees Blair's tear stained face and he stops finding humour in the situation, because lives _have_ been destroyed.

The truth was Dan, despite knowing it wasn't his fault that Chuck got himself shot, feels a bit guilty. He feels guilty, and he feels bad, and he actually wishes Chuck hadn't died. Because yeah the guy was a jerk, a major one, and yeah his head could have been deflated. But now Dan had a chance to cool down he knew that really Chuck hadn't been all that bad, at least he hadn't deserved to die far from home for such a stupid reason.

Despite the recent things Chuck had done, Dan still remembered that kid he'd hung out with on that night a year ago. That kid, not the legend, but simply Chuck. The guy who had introduced him to strippers and places he'd never been to. Who'd actually smirked despite himself at Dan's quips. Who had fought with him in a bar, who had sat with him in a jail cell. Who'd revealed to Dan real fears and a screwed up family. Who had made Dan actually see him as a human being, and not just another spoilt rich kid. Who maybe could have been an occasionally friendly acquaintance if not a friend. A kid who'd blamed himself for his mother's death, a guy that had been loyal and trusting inside, despite everything, despite himself.

When Dan went back to the loft after the funeral he'd headed for his computer and opened up the file. That one about Charlie Trout, the boy who hid a dark secret of guilt and fear, the tale he had laboured over with a heavy conscience and regret. Dan's hand flickered over the button for a while, he could probably sell the story now with no retribution. Make some money, accomplish something, and Chuck was dead what would he care?

He thought for a second that maybe he would print it and give it to Blair or Serena or even Nate. In the end Dan's finger pressed that button firmly and he watched as the story was erased in a few short seconds. He flicked his laptop shut with a click and he headed out to visit Rufus.

Because Dan and Chuck may never have been friends in this reality, but he had been the first one that Chuck had entrusted with his deepest secret, and that counted for something.

Who knew, maybe they would have ended up loyal friends if that night had gone a little differently, if Chuck hadn't found that incriminating piece of paper.

Perhaps Chuck would engaged to Blair right now, and Serena would be in his arms if only Dan hadn't interrupted that crucial moment with accusations and anger. Perhaps their whole lives would have turned out differently. Perhaps Chuck would have been a changed man, or more probably he would have been the same old jerk. But he may have also been alive...

But Dan Humphrey from Brooklyn, of all people,(his mind flickering to a blonde with a brilliant smile), knew there was no point of thinking about what ifs.

* * *

Serena was waiting in the Palace hotel lobby after visiting Lilly when she remembers.

She was fifteen, her mother had left with yet another flame. Eric was away at camp, and she had no one else to go to. Blair was holidaying at Paris, Nate was at the Hamptons, and she was stuck in New York. So Serena had gotten drunk, and then when the taxi driver had asked her where she wanted to go as she left her last club at two o clock in the morning Serena had said "The Palace." She had no idea why, but she knew Chuck was still in New York, and she needed some company.

She'd managed to get into the elevator, stumble down the corridor and slam her fist against what she hoped was the right suite door. And voila Chuck Bass opened the door, his hair mussed, wearing a ridiculous purple dressing gown with pink stripes.

"Serena?" he was surprised, she could tell and she'd laughed, practically collapsing into his arms. He could smell the alcohol on her, she knew. He'd looked down at her and they were tantalisingly close. She thought maybe he would kiss her, or make some lewd comment, to her surprise he did niether. He'd simply pulled her into the suite, dropped her on the familiar couch, and gone to shut the door behind her.

"Do you have any truffle sandwiches?" she'd asked expectantly as he'd turned to look at her.

"I think I need a drink," he'd said, going to his already well stocked cabinet.

"Get me one too then," she'd called, he hadn't refused her, and he'd come back to the sofa on which she was now sitting, with two glasses and a bottle in hand. He didn't ask any questions, didn't demand she leave. They'd understood each other, they were both train wrecks waiting to happen.

"Scotch ewww Chuck," she'd said as she'd taken a sip of the drink and spat it out. "I don't know how you drink this stuff."

" It's expensive, you should be grateful. You're lucky I didn't have any company over tonight or you'd probably be out there alone drinking cheap beer with some cheaper guys," Chuck had commented, smirking at her as she tried turning on the TV but couldn't manage to press the right button.

"And you're saying you're not cheap?" she'd come back with, he'd simply shrugged and she'd removed her shoes and put her aching feet up resting them in his lap. The next morning she would wonder what she was thinking, but right then she felt daring.

"Please Serena don't soil my pyjama pants with your dirty feet," he'd said, pushing her feet off his lap.

"They are not dirty," Serena had protested, curling her toes up beside him on the sofa instead.

"But you are drunk," he'd said unimpressed. "And I'm not, so I'm not really in the mood to have meaningless rambling conversations with you." He got up with that, walked towards his room.

"Where are you going?" Serena had protested, looking at him.

"To bed," he'd said.

"And your making me sleep on the couch by myself?" Serena had asked, pouting.

Chuck turned around raising his eyebrows at her.

"What are you doing here Serena?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, rising from the sofa she moved closer to him. "I guess I just wanted some company."

"What do you want from _me_?" Chuck asked cautiously as she swayed closer to him, looking up into his eyes.

"I don't know," she whispered, leaning close, close enough to kiss him. She thinks he has pretty eyes, eyes that weren't as hard as he pretended to be, eyes that revealed hidden depths, a softness. And suddenly Serena leant forward and kissed Chuck Bass softly on the lips. There were no sparks, or fireworks, he wasn't really that responsive. But he was warm, and she thought it was kind of nice to kiss him, if nothing more.

Serena supposed the real reason she had gone there was because subconsciously she wanted to feel in control when in reality she was in a downward spiral. She wanted to feel like she could twist everyone around her finger, every boy, every man. She needed to know they worshipped her, even though she wished sometimes they didn't. And most of all she didn't want to be alone, she needed someone right then, someone who professed adoration and love for her. And she knew that Chuck Bass never had, so she'd come to conquer (even though that was Blair's thing).

Except it turned out Chuck Bass wasn't so easy to conquer. Surprisingly he was the one to disengage, stepping back slightly he looked at her, searching her eyes, his brows furrowed. She looked back at him, her blue eyes wide slightly shocked at what she had done, more sober, her lips still tingling from the kiss.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked her,

"I don't know," she whispered quietly and that's when the tears began to fall, tracing a silent trail down her cheek. Maybe the real reason she'd come here was that she was insecure and desperately alone.

He suddenly moved, "Where are you going Chuck?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly at the thought that he was going to ignore her tears, and tell her to get out and take her mess with her.

'I'm going to pour us both another drink," he said, sitting on the couch he grabbed the scotch bottle and filled the glasses to the brim. He held out one to her, looking at her expectantly. She walked forward, taking the glass from him she sat down and watched as he took a healthy dose. She looked down at the alcohol, then back at him as he watched her, and she thought she saw some concern etched on his face. He was trying to figure her out, but Serena couldn't even do that what chance did he have? She thought it was ridiculous; here she was sitting on Chuck Bass' couch alone in his infamous suite, just drinking together... It was ridiculous that he was the only one she had left to turn to, the only one who understood what it was like to be lost.

And that's when Serena started crying in earnest, pouring out her heart in confused garbles, in between sobs. And contrary to his usual facade Chuck sat and listened. She woke up the next day with smudged mascara, a bad headache, with her legs propped up on the sofa and Chuck slumped on the other side, his legs intertwined with hers. She got up from that sofa and left before he could wake up.

They never spoke about that night again, but it was that night Serena remembered she would never be alone. In retrospect she thinks that maybe he'd always been a sort of brother to her, even if she hadn't realised it at the time. And Serena regrets that she hadn't shown him how much she appreciated that night, when he had just been there for her and listened, when she had the chance.

* * *

"At least we'll be miserable in hell together."

She remembers those words she'd spoken to him, that time she thought she was compromising. (How she wishes she could have one more day, just one more back, even that one when he was so penitent, when she saw that look in his eyes and knew he would take anything she would give him, he would settle just to have her.)

Sometimes she sits in the dark and she worries. She worries about where he's gone. He's too young to have gone to hell, because despite all their jokes about him being the devil incarnate, really he was just a boy.

She wonders if he's lonely. She wonders, in the off chance he did reach the pearly gates, what his heaven was like. She wonders if she featured at all, she liked to think so. But then she thinks of all the things that went wrong with them, and the last words she said to him. She knows then that if heaven was where he was (and it had to be) she wouldn't be there with him. Because he thought she hated him, and it hurt to know that.

And sometimes the frightening whisper invades her mind, that maybe he's nowhere, maybe he's simply gone. But she can't think that, can't comprehend that, because it didn't make sense for a person so full of life and thoughts and feelings to be snuffed out in one tiny instant, by something so small. It doesn't make sense that he wasn't existing anymore, in some form, in some place. It didn't make sense to think that he was simply _gone_.

So eventually she just hopes that he is peaceful, wherever he is, because he deserved that, if nothing else.

* * *

_If there's no one beside you  
When your soul embarks  
Then I'll follow you into the dark_

* * *

She cries in the middle of Central Park, while feeding the ducks with Dorota and Serena and Nate. (They had insisted, she had to get out of her house, she had to get some fresh air and realise the world was still turning no matter how hard she tried to ignore that fact.)

And as Serena came and squeezed her in a hug with watery eyes of her own, and Nate had enveloped them both from behind, his strong arms holding them together, it just made Blair cry harder.

She cried because she realises that he died alone. He died alone in a dirty alley, shot in the back. He bled out onto the street, he struggled to breathe (he probably passed out). He died alone in an alley, and he wasn't found until it was too late to save him, until he was already gone.

Chuck Bass died alone in an alley, and as he had predicted nobody had cared.

Except she did, she cared more then he could know. She cared and she'd never gotten the chance to tell him that.

Sometimes she thinks that if she could have only ten seconds back in her life, to do whatever she pleased, she would go to that alley and hold his hand and let him know she cared. She was there and _she cared_.

Blair Waldorf regretted a lot of things to do with Chuck Bass, but she thinks not letting him know how much she cared when she had the chance...That was the thing she regretted the most.

* * *

_I got my knuckles bruised by a man in black  
And I held my tongue as he told me  
"Son fear is the heart of love"  
So I never went back_

* * *

Vanessa reads about the shocking news on Gossip Girl.

She'd been avoiding looking at the site ever since that photo showing her Dan's betrayal. She'd immersed herself in work. But she hadn't been able to help herself, she needed to know what was going on back home. So she'd relented, opened it up, and seen the post.

_Chuck Bass, RIP, 1991-2010. _

Vanessa had stared, shocked at the words. It was the last post on the blog, those few words, that short date.

Vanessa had to read it three times before it actually sunk in, because it seemed so impossible.

She hadn't expected something like this to have an impact on her, he was Chuck Bass after all, she shouldn't even care. But Vanessa actually found herself feeling sorry. Because she remembered that time she had actually given Chuck a chance, and his mask had slipped and he'd shown her a side she never thought he possessed. It was a boy who was desperate for his father's approval, a boy who would do anything for his father's love. And Vanessa in some weird way, could actually relate to that.

So Vanessa took out a bottle, poured herself a drink and toasted to Chuck Bass. Wherever he was she hoped he'd found whatever he was looking for. She thinks that maybe she'll ring her Mom tomorrow, just to talk...

* * *

It's when Blair's standing in her bathroom that she remembers.

They were in tenth grade, it was a little after Serena had left and Blair wouldn't let anyone into her room. Her world was imploding and all she could do was sit on the floor of her bathroom and rest her head against the cool bathtub and wish for the world to go away.

Chuck had barged in. She had known someone eventually had to break her stalemate. She had thought it would be Dorota, hoped it would be Nate, instead it was Chuck. He'd come through that door (he'd gotten the master key from Dorota), a bottle in hand, profanities ready on his tongue to get the princess out and bring his stressed and strangely distant friend back to partying with him. When he'd seen her he'd paused, and anything he was about to say disappeared. His smirk faltered as he saw her teary eyes.

"Just go away Chuck," she'd said, but it wasn't in her usual commanding tone. It was broken like she was. And he'd looked at her, at a loss for words, the ice queen fallen from her silver throne.

He didn't go away though, he'd sat down beside her, right there on her bathroom floor.

"You're going to ruin your suit," she'd commented as he opened the bottle.

"It doesn't matter, my father bought it for me..." he said indifferently. She had noticed there was something off with him, the plain black suit certainly didn't have his usual flair.

"That was nice of him," she said, and she couldn't help that slight bitter note creeping into her voice. Because Bart may not have been the best of fathers but at least he hadn't had an affair and chosen his lover over his family.

Chuck looked at her downcast face with raised eyebrows, and then he sighed heavily, taking a deep swig from the bottle. "Actually his delightful secretary bought it for me, with my father's salutations of course. Tomorrows he's going on yet another business trip so he wrote a note for me telling me not to expect him for Christmas, as if I was. "

Christmas... usually Blair's Christmas' were perfect, they'd have a large family meal, and sit by the fashionably decorated tree and her Daddy would hand her gift after gift, and her mother would actually smile. She didn't think this Christmas was going to be as perfect, she wonders if everything would be ruined now.

"Want some?" Chuck asked, pulling her out of her reverie, he held the bottle out to her.

"No thank you," she'd said, scrunching up her nose at the strong smell, and Chuck had smirked at this, shrugging.

"More for me," he said, taking another drink. "So when are you planning on coming out of this crystal tower of yours?"

"Never," Blair had lamented dramatically, "How can I go out in society after this sort of scandal?"

"We can start a smear campaign on someone else, Ellis Warden? Katie Pelt?" Chuck suggested enticingly. "I know how much you've always wanted to teach her a lesson or two."

"Well I have always wanted to show her for the prissy faced cow she is..." Blair trailed off as she noticed Chuck satisfied smirk, her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "But why do you care so much?"

"Because Nate won't stop moping around and I'm sick of seeing his doped face around my suite," Chuck said bluntly.

"Really Nate is feeling bad?" Blair asked, her interest piqued slightly. "Does he miss me?"

"How do I know? We don't exactly have deep and meaningful talks Blair," he'd shrugged, non committed.

"Well then if he does he'll come talk to me himself," Blair had snapped, annoyed at Chuck's lack of response. "And I'll wait here until he does."

"When are you going to learn that life is not a fairytale Blair?" he sighed, looking at her with some seriousness.

"Mine is," she said adamantly, "It _was_ at least..." she rectified as she remembered her mother's tears and her father's apologies.

"I've always thought fairy tales are over rated anyway," Chuck said disdainfully, interrupting her thoughts, "The Prince is always such a weakling, professing love for a girl he hardly knows, out of some stupid sense of duty. And the damsel in distress, waiting around to be saved from some pretty boy hero. They all seem like idiots to me."

"That's because you're a shallow man whore," Blair had sniped, feeling stung that he'd insulted her greatest love. "You just don't understand true love."

"Why settle for one when you can have them all?".

"You're heinous," she'd retorted in disgust.

"I know," he smirked, there was a silence as Blair tried to repress her smile.

"Look are you going to leave your fortress or not?" Chuck finally directed, and she could tell he was playing at being bored. "Because I rented a town car and I'm paying for it by the hour. So if you're not, instead of wasting your time showing me your bathroom you can better use my time and money give me a tour of your_ bedroom_."

"In your dreams," Blair rolled her eyes, "Why did you take a taxi anyway Bass? The limo needs cleaning?"

Chuck paused for a second, deciding what to say, and then he sighed and looked at her. "If you must know Father's banned me from it."

"What?" Blair actually smiled at this, a proper smile. She couldn't help it, the thought of the great Chuck Bass' Dad taking his limo away from him was just too humorous. "So what did you do?" she asked as Chuck gave her an annoyed look.

"I called one of his new whores a gold digger," he said bluntly. "Among other things. She didn't like to hear the truth, and neither did father when she told him. He can't even get her name right, but typically he chose her over me."

"Oh," Blair said, there was an awkward silence. They were all aware of the various women on Bart's arm throughout the years, none of them ever stayed long. Blair had always thought that Chuck didn't care, after all he had such loose morals. But hearing the bitterness creep into his voice she supposed he did.

"He'll forget about it though," she'd conceded, "It's not like they last longer than a week, right?"

"I wouldn't count on that, let's just say family isn't one of Bart's priorities," Chuck had said, and his face was guarded once more, his mask slipped back on. "So are you going to come out or not? Because Dorota is getting so worried she even asked _me_ for help and according to her your 'Daddy' keeps ringing every ten minutes wanting to speak with you."

There was a pause as Chuck glanced over at Blair and she examined him with narrowed eyes.

"What?" he finally asked lazily as she continued to glare.

"Was this your way of reminding me that I have people who care about me Bass?" she finally asked him, her tone accusatory.

"No, this was my way of seeing the inside of your bathroom," Chuck leered, and he began to get up off the floor. "But seeing as I'm going to get nowhere here, I suppose I should just try getting Nate high and then drag him out for a night on the town."

"No you won't," she'd snapped.

"Depends on who gets to him first Waldorf," he shrugged, quickly going to the door he swung it shut behind him and Blair could hear the distinct click of the lock. She rose and ran to the door and tried the handle but it wouldn't budge.

"Open this door you Basshole," she had yelled, banging on it.

"Got you off the bathroom floor didn't it?" he'd called from the other side, and despite herself she couldn't help smiling at his duplicity.

Blair felt a sort of camaraderie with Chuck after that day. Though she was careful to always act the same way she always had. Because she knew that he hated pity. But he'd still reminded her that her family, though no longer perfect, at least existed in some form. And she realised that all she'd ever seen Bart do around Chuck was admonish him and belittle him. She knew that Chuck was afraid of his father, though he tried hard to hide it from his friends. And that's when Blair began to understand why Chuck was the way he was. Because with a family like that, he had done the best he could.

* * *

Lilly held a quiet memorial at her apartment on his birthday. It wasn't for Charles (because even she knew how much he had hated his birthday). It was more for her. She knew it was selfish, but the way she grieved was by organising, planning and attempting not to feel the myriad of emotions whirling within.

She hadn't cried, not after the first time when she got the call, not even at the funeral. Some people labelled her cold, they knew they talked behind her back, but she didn't care about them. She avoided the whole topic completely, despite Rufus' prodding, concentrating on keeping moving.

So she organized and planned and the party was a quiet gathering of people from Bass industries and some of his 'friends' (though his real ones, Nate and Serena only stayed for ten minutes then slipped away quietly while Blair didn't come at all.) It was perfect, and yet Lilly found that as soon as it began all she wanted it to end. So she managed to slip away from Rufus who was distracted by one of the biggest gossips in their circle. She headed upstairs, thinking of grabbing some aspirin and having a quiet moment alone, but instead of entering her room she ended up in Bart's old study.

It was completely transformed of course, all of Rufus' things were in there, not one thing was left of Bart except the safe. Lilly doesn't know why she kept it, there should be no secrets between her and Rufus. But she had, though she hadn't touched it in such a long while. Compelled by something she wasn't sure of Lilly went to the safe, keying in the combination with practiced hands, it popped open. She looked at the inside, it was practically bare beside her and Eric's passport, a few papers from Bass' industries and one file sitting on the top shelf by itself marked Charles Bartholomew Bass. (Her, Eric and Serena had burnt there's but Charles hadn't seemed interested in even peeking at his).

Before she knew what she was doing Lilly's hand reached out and she took the file (it was relatively fat and heavy). She placed it on the light desk that now replaced Bart's heavy mahogany one, sitting down in the comfortable chair. Her fingers brushed over the file, touching the old label. The file bore creases on the side, as if it had been opened repeatedly; there was even a coffee stain in the corner. Before she could over think it Lilly opened the file, looking at the first page in curiosity.

It read of basic details about Chuck, how old he was, his birth date, his height, hair colour, eye colour. It was so clinical, basic details about a boy who had been infinitely complicated, a mystery to Lilly even now.

She flicked through the other pages. There were school reports (B's and A's) noted with who Chuck had gotten to do his papers (apparently he only subject he expended any energy on himself was mathematics). There were some jail reports with sticky notes in what she believed to be Bart's spiky hand noting they were 'Taken care of'. There were some surveillance footage of Chuck in the elevator or in front of his suite with various girls at the age of thirteen, to Lilly's shock..There was a record of a counselling session when Charles was fourteen, Lilly felt a bit guilty about reading it, but she was curious. It stated that Chuck had merely made inappropriate suggestions and then sat for the rest of the hour in silence despite many promptings. There were no more sessions recorded after that and no more pictures of Chuck with girls, she supposed Bart had given up on trying to control his son's private life.

To her shock there was a hospital record, with Serena Nate and Blair's name mentioned somewhere. Chuck had gotten his stomach pumped, alcohol poisoning. Lilly couldn't believe she hadn't heard of it, her mouth turning into a thin line as she supposed Bart had 'taken care' of that too. Then again she recalled that on the day she had been away having a romantic rendezvous with Klaus, and she felt the guilt bite at her that even if she had been called about Serena's whereabouts and doings she could have hardly done much, and would probably have done nothing.

Behind the paper was a crumpled pamphlet. It was for a rehab centre, a post it was attached to it, again in Bart's script, reading "Last resort." Lilly quickly put down the paper and rifled through the rest. She never realised how worried Bart had been about his son, and she wished that Charles had looked through his file to see the evidence Bart cared, even though it was in a round about way.

As she rifled through the rest of the papers one fell out. Quickly bending down Lilly picked it up. It was a much abused paper, it had been ripped clumsily down the middle and crumpled terribly as if thrown in the trash, but it had been taped back together again and was still legible.

It was a piece from primary school, grade one. It was an art project they each had to do, stating what they'd do when they grew up. Lilly remembered when Serena had brought one home too stating that she wanted to be a ballerina like a character from one of her favourite shows. Lilly had placed it reverently in the scrapbook she'd made for her first child and it was still there.

This abused one followed the same format as Serena's. It had a photo on the top right corner, clumsily pasted on by the child's own hands. There was finger painting all over the page, purple, light green and red. Lilly smiled, Charles had a flare for colour even back then. In black texta scrawled in carefully if clumsy letters (prompted by the teacher of course) were the words, "When I grow up I want to be a business man like my father."

Lilly was by far not the best mother, but she loved her children with all her heart. Charles had been one of them if only for a short while, the older son she had lost (he still had been after Scott was found, because Scott had a mother, a good one. He didn't need Lilly but Charles had, he always had). Lilly just wished that she could have had more time with him, to discover more about him. To be a true mother to him, in all senses of the word.

'Oh Charles," she whispered quietly as she looked down at the photo of the quietly smiling boy with dark eyes in immaculate clothes too old for a six year old. The little boy that never got to fully realise all his dreams, who wanted so badly to be someone he wasn't, to be shown love from a parent. The little boy who'd had his whole life ahead of him, who hadn't yet had a chance to make mistakes, to feel regret. The young boy who never got to grow up. And suddenly the tears began to fall.

* * *

_You and me have seen everything to see  
From Bangkok to Calgary  
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down  
The time for sleep is now_

* * *

They were old by the time they were nineteen, they'd seen so many things. But they were young in so many other ways.

They were young in love.

They still believed they were invincible.

They believed they would conquer the world together.

They still believed that love could fix all ills.

Now their older, now they know. Love doesn't fix anything, it just hurts and hurts until you can't stand it anymore. Love wasn't beautiful, love was endless fear and pain, love was loss.

Blair feels so tired now, sometimes she wishes that she wasn't so young, because it just meant that there was longer for her to hurt.

* * *

Serena didn't talk much to Dan (her knight in shining armour) anymore. It was too hard. She heard on gossip girl that he had gotten Georgina pregnant, and then later that it wasn't really his baby.

She felt hurt from the first post, relieved at the second, but only a little. She didn't really allow herself to think about Dan anymore. Because if she had learnt anything from the tragedy of Chuck Bass' life it was that life was too short to be uncertain.

So she chose Nate, the boy that had seen her through everything, and had loved her despite, or maybe because of, her short fallings. She chose Nate, because Serena didn't want to regret lost opportunities, she didn't torture herself with what ifs, she didn't want to end up like Blair crying inside forever. And she knew that she would if she didn't choose Nate.

Because Serena knew if anything ever happened to him, which was a fear that now nagged at the end of her conscience constantly. All the threats that they never thought of before now always in the forefront. All the terrible things that could happen to them from the simple act of just walking out the door, all the different ways a person could die, all the little fears. Fear was big now, fear had become a part of their life, so entangled with love it was inseparable. Well if anything ever did happen to him, she couldn't imagine living after that.

So Serena tried to not think of Dan Humphrey from Brooklyn anymore, because the more people you cared about the more it hurt. And Serena was determined not to have any regrets. She'd made her choice, she just hoped it was the right one.

* * *

It's on a Friday night, when Serena drags her out for drinks, that Blair truly realises how much she has aged in such a short time.

Serena had ordered cosmopolitans for both of them, and Blair had stirred hers listlessly, nodding in what she hoped was the right places as Serena filled the silence with anxious chatter. She begins to wonder when talks with her best friend had become one sided, but she thinks she likes it best that way. Less need to talk about her feelings, less chance _he'd _be brought up.

"B. Are you listening to me?" Serena's voice had pierced through Blair's listless thoughts and she looked up blinking slowly.

"Of course I am," she'd retorted without much effort to convince Serena who had her eyebrows raised.

"Well then you'll know that guy is totally checking you out," Serena had said, putting on a bright fake smile (everything was a little fake now, took a little more effort than it did before) Blair glanced behind her to a black haired guy who was sitting at a table with a few other people. The guy was staring at Blair, and when she looked at him he smirked at her and raised his glass.

"I need to go," Blair said quickly, she threw some notes onto the counter and almost ran out of there.

She supposes maybe it was the smirk, or the way he hadn't turned away when Blair had looked at him, but for a moment she thought she had seen Chuck sitting there. And when she had blinked and he had gone to be replaced with a twenty year old guy, a guy that wasn't Chuck, that would never be Chuck, it had been unbearable.

"B. Wait," Serena called quickly racing after he friend she caught Blair just as she stepped onto the side walk, grabbing her hand to prevent her from fleeing she turned her around to face her.

"Serena just let me go," Blair had snapped viciously, she didn't though. Serena was tired of skirting around subjects and letting her best friend wallow. Her and Nate had talked about it, they both thought it was time they confronted her head on. Because they were scared for her, scared for what she'd become if they just kept letting her go on like this.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself Blair," she almost yelled at her best friend. Because she hated seeing her this way, like she was on automatic. It scared Serena, and she wanted Queen B. back, she missed her best friend, she _needed_ her best friend right now.

"What am I supposed to do?" Blair asked her, and Serena had no answer to that, because what could you do?

"He wouldn't want this for you." Serena finally said.

Blair knew her friend was just trying to comfort her, trying to say the words that fit here, that always worked in movies. But this wasn't a movie, because in the movies the love interest had close escapes, but he always survived to kiss the heroine and they lived happily ever after, and they_ lived_.

But this wasn't a movie, this was real life, and there would be no happily ever after. There would be no life for the hero, only the heroine, and she had no idea how to live it. And that was the moment that Blair Waldorf realised this was what it meant to grow up.

"He doesn't want anything anymore Serena, he's dead," she'd said simply.

Serena had let go of her hand, staring at her best friend in shock, and Blair had turned calmly and walked away. Serena didn't follow, she couldn't, because there was nothing she could say to make any of this better, nothing she could say to bring her friends innocence back.

* * *

_It's nothing to cry about  
'cause we'll hold each other soon  
In the blackest of rooms_

* * *

She goes to his grave often, every Sunday. She stands by it and thinks of the future they could have had. She thinks of him kneeling on that hospital floor, she thinks of what could have been if Humphrey hadn't hit him in that moment, if he had asked her and if she had said yes.

Sometimes she imagines brown haired babies with caramel eyes and smirks to rival their father. Sometimes she imagines screaming matches, crying and affairs. Sometimes she imagines lavish gifts, holidays, laughter. Sometimes she can't see anything at all.

It's hard to remember what exact of shade his hair was, what colour his eyes, how he used to stand or smirk. It was the hardest to remember how he smiled, because those had been so rare.

Sometimes she gets pictures out, old ones from school. Class photos from primary, photos of when they were little in bathing suits with missing teeth in the Hamptons. Photos from the first party he held at his suite, photos on her phone from the one day the four of them had skipped school. Most of the photos she has of him had the four of them in it, because that was how it had been.

The last photo she has is of him at Dorota's wedding, the photographer had insisted the two of them posed. She hates that one, it was shoved deep in the bottom of a drawer. She hated how cold she looked, and she hated that she hadn't even noticed how broken he had been.

* * *

He's standing in Chuck's old room in their suite. It had now been empty for a while. The help kept it clean but besides a bed and the walk in wardrobe it was bare. It had a quiet hush over it, a lot of things seemed to these days. Serena was staying with Blair, Lilly was rushing around organising things, and Rufus was following her, attempting to support her, to talk to her. And Eric, he was wandering around the house like a ghost, alone once again.

Eric Van der Woodsen Bass, it had been his favourite name so far. When he'd first heard it, it had just sounded so right, like it fit.

He had been nervous at first about the whole Bass amalgamation. It wasn't like he'd seen it all before, but to be honest unlike all the other men Bart actually scared him. But then Bart turned out to not be so bad, well not to Eric at least. Sometimes when Eric came home from school and Lilly, Serena and Chuck were out, Bart would call him into his study. They would share a drink (well Eric would have juice) and Bart would ask him how his day was, talk to him about the news. Not like he was some stupid kid he had to put up with, but as if he actually liked him and was interested in what he had to say. Bart had tried as hard as he could, and Eric had appreciated that. He'd actually allowed himself to believe for a while there that if Lilly gave Bart a real chance he could grow to be a sort of father figure to Eric. But typically things didn't work out that way, nothing had. ..

He doesn't think it was really Bart that had made him love the name so much. Bart and him hadn't really had a chance to forge a strong bond after all. No the real reason Eric had loved the name, the house, the family, the real reason was Chuck. Their mother had never married someone with children before, and though Eric knew how to guard himself from getting too attached to Bart, he had no idea how to keep Chuck Bass out.

Serena was great, a good big sister, but she had her many, many faults. She had so many problems sometimes it was hard to drag her away from her distractions and talk to her. Lately it had been Eric who had been supporting Serena, he thinks that maybe it had been that way always.

But Chuck, he gave Eric a taste of a real big brother. He looked out for Eric, talked to him, he knew Eric's secret before he'd ever told him. Eric knew he could always go to Chuck and no matter the stuff going on his life, Chuck would open a bottle, sit down and listen. He knew how to make Eric laugh, knew when to give advice and when just to sit back and let Eric pour it all out. And when Eric found out that Lilly had adopted Chuck, when Chuck had moved back in, Eric had felt like their household was complete. That whatever would happen with the Humphrey's this would always be his family. Lilly, Serena, Chuck, they'd always be there and he'd never be alone again.

He was wrong.

Eric took out his phone yet again, brushing the smudged screen, he scrolled through until he came to the familiar inbox. He'd always been one to leave old messages there until the inbox got so full he had to delete something. It had always felt weird deleting these things, like he was erasing a conversation. Right then most of the recent messages on his phone had been from Chuck.

**J's getting ridiculous, any ideas?**

**B might have a few. My advice, take her down, show no mercy. I know you'll uphold the Bass name little bro. **

**I'm worried about S, do you know what's up?**

**Don't worry B. and me have it covered, she'll be fine. Have you fixed the Jo issue yet? Or do you want to take me up on my offer?**

**No, and no I don't want you to send a hit man after him!**

**I'm scared about M, I don't know what to do. **

**If you need to talk my door is always open. **

It seemed so weird to Eric that these short snap shots, these words that had meaning and feeling, and thought behind them, were the last conversations he'd ever have with his brother.

He wishes that he'd taken Chuck up on that last offer, gone over to his place, talked and let him know how much he'd appreciated those words. But instead he'd taken it for granted that Chuck would always be there, his door always open to Eric, and he'd allowed that to be his security blanket in case things got r_eally_ bad.

Eric regrets that, because now things _are_ really bad, and there was no Chuck here to help.

Eric Van der Woodsen would miss Chuck Bass ever day, because Chuck may have made a lot of mistakes in life, but he had been a great big brother.

* * *

It was his twentieth birthday and she had nothing planned, no memorial, no flowers, no visit to his grave. He had always hated his birthday's, spent them drinking alone, kept them hidden from his friends. He'd insisted on no celebrations, even when they were together.

So Blair was going to respect his wishes, simply going to stay home watching whatever was on and eating some chocolates. But on impulse she'd gone to 1812 by herself instead. Despite moving into the Empire Chuck had kept the suite. He'd eluded that it held sentimental value, and Blair had gathered that it was equivalent to a childhood home for him. It hadn't been used in a while, not since he'd moved into the Empire.

Nate now lived in the suite at the Empire, he had hinted to Blair that Chucks room was exactly as he had left it, but Blair still couldn't bring herself to go there yet. So she went to 1812, because she needed to get out of her house, and she wanted to feel close to him, even though she knew it was silly and something they would have sneered at in another.

As soon as she enters the room she knows it was stupid thinking she could feel close to him here. It's bare and empty, there's the old couch and a TV, but otherwise it was unlived in. The curtains were drawn, the rooms almost echoed, there was no trace of him there. She doesn't leave though, it's not like she had anywhere else to be. So she goes to the old familiar couch and curls up against the arm, and just sits there in the dark.

She doesn't know how long she sat like that, but there were some noises outside the door she didn't really pay attention to. And then the knob rattled and Blair got up, her heart beat quickening as the door swung open.

Serena and Nate entered the room, blinking in the dark, and Blair fell back on to the couch.

"Blair," Serena said, noticing her friend with her head in her hands, sitting upon the familiar couch. She doesn't need to ask what she's doing here, they're all painfully aware of what day it is.

"What are you guys doing here?" Blair asked, looking up at the two. She noticed the bottle in Nate's hand, the glasses in Serena's. "I thought you'd be at the charity event Lilly's holding?"

"We were just..." Nate trailed off.

"We couldn't stand to stay there another minute, it just seemed so trivial."

Serena verbalised for him. They all knew Lilly grieved by organising things, holding events, but it didn't mean any of them could stand them. "So we came here instead. We were going to have a few drinks.." (in memory).

There was a tense silence for a few minutes as the blondes watched the crumpled brunette. They always seemed worried nowadays, there were so many new fears, new anxieties they had to deal with on a daily basis. (If I let them walk out the door will they come back? If we go to sleep will we wake up? If I take that risk will I survive it? Will it hurt like this forever? Worse will everyone stop caring, will I stop caring? Will I forget so easily...?

"What did you bring?" Blair finally broke it, looking at Nate's hand.

"Scotch," Nate said, and Blair actually smiled because she wasn't the only one who remembered.

* * *

They shared the bottle, because that's how their nights had always ended after one of Chuck's parties at his suite. They took conservative sips, because even though most of them couldn't stand it, it made it seem like he was there. The smell lingered.

"He would have hated it you know," Serena was the first one to actually allude to him.

"Hate what?" Nate asked, Blair just watched her friend as she took a gulp from the bottle and scrunched up her face.

"Hated that all anyone had to say about him was good things." Blair articulated, as Serena shoved the bottle in Nate's hands. "He told me once that he hated the whole hypocrisy of life, that no matter how bad you were, when you died all people ever had to say was how you were some saint. He said it was like they forgot who you really were, replaced you with some perfect being they wanted you to be... That's why he hated funerals so much..."

There was a long drawn out silence. Serena was fighting back tears, Nate was thinking of all the things he had never even thought to ask his best friend and Blair was simply trying not to think.

Nate was the first to say it, "Do you remember when..." And maybe it was the scotch, or maybe it was the nostalgia the suite brought, making it somehow easier to talk about these things, to remember, to almost believe he was still with them... But the other two soon followed.

They reminisced about all the unsaintly schemes Chuck had pulled off, they reminisced about the real Chuck with all his flaws that came along with his redeeming qualities. Dropping water on Katie Pelt in her white dress. Planting hard drugs in Simon Turners locker. Spreading rumours about Daniel Youngs parents going bankrupt. And they remembered other things, earlier that day Katie had sneered about Blair's father. A few days before Simon had posted that he'd slept with Serena. A week before Daniel had tripped Nate up in the corridor.

All the little things he'd done and they'd never realised...

"It wasn't fair," Nate says, and suddenly he's angry.

"What?" Serena asks, they all know what he's alluding to, but maybe they need to hear it out loud.

"He was such an idiot for going down an alley at night, in a frigging foreign country... I mean how stupid could he be, did he even think?..." Nate trailed off, glaring at the wall with unexplained anger, clutching the bottle tight. "It just wasn't fair you know?"

He looks at Serena, who has placed her hand on his, their fingers intertwined.

"I know," she whispered (It wasn't fair that he had died, wasn't fair that he had left, it wasn't fair on them to have to miss him everyday because he'd made one stupid choice, because they'd made a one stupid choice...)

And suddenly Blair was shaking slightly, making an indistinct noise, and Serena quickly ran to her side as well, concern etched upon both their faces.

"Blair?" Nate queried, and then she looked up and she was actually laughing. Serena and Nate shared a confused look at their friend who was shaking with laughter in front of them, their friend who they'd hardly seen crack a smile in so long.

"Is there something funny?" Nate finally asked.

"It's just...trust that Basshole to die so dramatically. I mean in this day and age what are the chances of getting _mugged and murdered_?" Blair said, trying to get her laughter under control, it was bordering on the hysterical almost, bordering on ever ready tears. "No, the great Chuck Bass couldn't just go in a car crash, or...or in old age, he had to go out with a bang."

And then Nate and Serena are laughing too because it was just so ridiculous, so dam ridiculous.

"You know he always used to say live fast, die young and leave behind a good looking corpse," Nate added.

"He was such a selfish jerk," Serena said.

"He was Chuck Bass," Blair says and suddenly their laughter fades away as her laughter turns into tears. "I always thought that meant he was invincible...I _hate _him you know?" And she says it like she means it, viciously, angrily. " I hate him for lying all these years, for pretending, for making me believe he would always be there. I just _hate_ him so much!..."

Serena envelopes her friend in a hug, and she feels the tears sting her own eyes, because she had no answer to that. So she just held her friend and rocked her slightly. Nate tentatively put his hand on her back, rubbing it slightly in soft soothing circles, clenching his jaw in a weak attempt to be strong.

"We miss him too B," Serena said. Those words weren't enough to convey everything the three were feeling inside, all the fear and hurt and loss. But they were the best Serena could come up with, and they would have to do.

* * *

Blair remembered when they were twelve (bordering on thirteen), after Chuck's first New Years party at 1812. The place was trashed, there had been complaints, and scandal and more alcohol and other substances then twelve year olds should rightfully take. All in all it had been the best party ever.

After everyone had left Chuck was sitting on the couch with a self satisfied smirk and a bottle in hand (he was drunk by that time and ready to pass out, but he kept up the facade of being in control.) Nate was slumped over the other arm of the sofa, snoring slightly of course, despite Blairs' disapproving looks he'd kept on drinking the shots Chuck was feeding him.

"Somebody's going to be in big trouble when he wakes up," Serena sang as she slid beside Nate, smiling at his little snores.

"Where's the Princess?" Chuck enquired.

"Muttering about something like planning the social destruction of MiMi in your bathroom," Serena said, laughing. "You'd think she'd want to destroy Mark, he was the one that dropped the drink on her."

"Mimi was the one who orchestrated it," Chuck noted. "I hope she's not touching anything in there?"

"What...Oh you mean your bathroom. No she just had to change, not that we haven't seen the inside of your cabinet before you drug dealer."

"Slurry," Chuck retorted.

"Loser," Serena said, sticking her tongue out at him. When she was drunk she usually didn't take offence to much, she was too happy.

"Now that I think of it what did she change into?" Chuck asked.

"Oh...nothing really..." Serena said awkwardly.

"Really, nothing?" Chuck smirked.

"Ewwww you perv," Serena scrunched up her nose. "I just meant...but I gave her one of your school shirts. I mean it's not like you use them much anyway."

"I didn't think she'd ever deem to touch one," he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I might have told her it was one of Nate's he left here..." Serena said twirling her hair nervously. "You can't tell her though okay," she demanded. "I mean it Chuck."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Chuck said. "For a fee of course..."

"Mimi is lucky it didn't get in my hair otherwise she would already be dead," Blair shrieked, coming into the room with the over sized school shirt and her black stockings. "What are you two doing?" she asked suspiciously as Serena quickly dropped the pillow she was preparing to throw at Chucks self satisfied smirk.

"Oh nothing," Serena said unsuccessfully. Blair narrowed her eyes, then she noticed Nate and thoughts of Serena left her head.

"Chuck! Why is my boyfriend passed out?" she'd demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

"You know he's also _my_ best friend, and everyone know it's bros before hoes Blair," Chuck had said, Serena hid a smile.

"You Basshole," Blair hissed, she leant down grabbing one of Nate's discarded shoes she threw it at Chuck. Luckily he managed to bring up a pillow blocking the blow. "How dare you compare me to a common hoe," she snapped angrily, looking daggers at Chuck who checked from behind the pillow to see if there were any more flying projectiles.

"C'mon B. He was just kidding around," Serena said, trying to be the peace maker. Heaven knew none of them needed a war on their hands. "Come and have some chocolate with me," she picked up the box from the table and held it up invitingly.

"I'm not sitting next to him," Blair said huffily, narrowing her eyes at Chuck.

"Chuck's sorry, aren't you Chuck?" Serena said, giving him a meaningful look.

Chuck rarely missed an opportunity to bait Blair, but he wasn't in a state to dodge any more projectiles flying at him right now.

"Eternally apologetic Waldorf," he settled on saying, giving her a penitent look.

"Their lady Gudivers," Serena said enticingly as Blair looked undecided.

Blair eventually came to gingerly sit in between Serena and Chuck, moving closer to Serena as she could. She took a piece of chocolate from Serena and placed in her mouth daintily, savouring the sweet taste.

"Want to turn that into chocolate liquors?" Chuck offered her the bottle. Blair scrunched up her nose, glaring at him.

"As if," she said, "I wouldn't deign to put anything in my mouth that your lips have touched Bass. I don't know what I would catch."

"She has a point," Serena laughed.

"You haven't drunk a thing all night Waldorf," Chuck pointed out, ignoring Serena, "I'm starting to wonder if you're scared."

"I am _not _scared," Blair's eyes flashed, "I just don't fancy having liver disease before I turn twenty."

"Live fast, die young and leave behind a good looking corpse that's my philosophy," Chuck had declared.

"If your idea of living fast is wearing a purple bow tie," Blair had pointed out with raised eyebrows. "And smelling like a bar every night."

"Well you know you should taste before you judge," he challenged, holding out the bottle.

"I don't need to prove anything to you," Blair said primly, turning up her nose.

"Just admit it Blair," he enunciated, delighting in pressing her buttons. "You don't have a daring bone in your body. You'll probably die without committing one sin. The most boring perfectly clean person on the upper east side."

"Why don't you just drop it Chuck," Serena sighed as she saw Blair blush with anger.

"Your right Serena, I apologize," Chuck said, smirking provocatively he sat back, "I should just face the fact that Blair is a lightweight, there always needs to be one in every group I guess."

"Give me that," Blair snapped, grabbing the bottle from Chuck she hesitated for a second before putting it to her lips (as his smirk widened) and taking a healthy gulp.

"Wooo B." Serena exclaimed, watching her friends with wide eyes, "I can't believe you just did that."

"It was disgusting," Blair said, making a face. "Your taste Bass is about as bad as your fashion sense."

"It's an acquired thing," Chuck said, holding out his hand, instead of giving him back the bottle Blair handed it to Serena.

"Drink," she commanded her best friend.

"Wait why do I have to drink?" Serena asked confused.

"If I had to touch that petrie dish so do you," Blair said, as if it made perfect sense. "Now drink!"

Serena looked at Blair, smiling in bemusement but then she shrugged, not one to back down from a challenge, and tipped back the bottle.

"Not bad," she said to Chuck, he nodded in acquiesce.

"Not bad?" Blair raised her eyebrows, and then shook her head. She guessed alcohol really was an acquired taste and both Serena and Chuck had plenty of time to acquire it.

"You do realise that technically all three of our lips have touched right now," Chuck leered, looking at both the girls.

"Your heinous," Blair hissed, Serena merely rolled her eyes, and then she looked at Nate and smiled.

"Well how do you like the idea of you and Nate technically touching lips," Serena asked Chuck, laughing she flicked Nate on the nose. "Time to wake up Natie I have something for you."

"You're sick," Chuck said to her, smirking in admiration.

"I learnt from you," Serena declared, flicking Nate again with a perfectly shaped nail. Blair looked undecided, but then she smiled too as Nate mumbled something, opening his eyes to slits.

"What?" he mumbled, looking at Serena blearily.

'I have a great drink for you," Serena said, without waiting for him to reply she practically shoved the bottle in his mouth. Nate spluttered, quickly grabbing the bottle he pulled it out.

"What is this?" he asked, waking up more fully he looked at it.

"It's called backwash, "Serena giggled.

"Ewww S." Blair said, making a face. "That is _disgusting_."

"Huh?" Nate looked confused at Serena who was giggling, he smiled bemusedly at her, his hair sticking up at all angles.

"You don't want to know Nathanial," Chuck declared. "It reminds me of the time..."

"No I do not want to hear another disgusting story about you and one of those girls from that state school," Blair cried out, grabbing a cushion she threw it at Chuck.

"This one's a good one I swear," Chuck said, smirking.

"Have they been like this the whole time?" Nate asked Serena yawning.

"Worse," Serena noted, "Their insufferable," she said, putting on a Blair voice, Nate grinned. "I'm glad your awake Natie, I don't know what I would have done the rest of the night without you," she teased, looking over at him with earnest blue eyes, Nate smiled back at her instinctually.

"It's going to be like this forever, right Natie?" Serena murmured after a beat of silence between them as they watched another pillow angle towards Chuck., She looked sleepily at him with a warm smile.

"Like what?" Nate asked, smiling as she rested her head lightly on his shoulder.

"Us four together forever," Serena sighed contentedly, and Nate laughed. "Perfect," she whispered as if it was a secret between them.

"Yeah perfect," he murmured, grinning as they snuggled together both watching Blair and Chuck fighting.

The four of them spent the rest of the night on that couch.

Serena only left it to get them another bottle of something she thought would be more to Blair's taste. Nate managed to stay up by pinching himself and Blair shoved breakfast at Tiffany's in the DVD player ("Not again," Serena complained.) They didn't watch the movie, mainly talked all night. None of them felt like leaving for the beds prepared earlier for them, so they stayed their curled up on the couch and laughed and fought and laughed some more. Eventually sleep overtook them, Nate was the first to cave, then Serena, and finally Blair and Chuck were the only ones left (barely) as dawn began to peek through the windows.

"You know what Waldorf," Chuck had finally muttered to Blair after a few minutes of silence (from arguing). She could tell he was bordering on passing out, she herself was drifting. His words were slurred, and she guessed he probably was going to say something stupidly drunk.

"What Bass?" she'd humoured him, because she'd felt benevolent that night.

"I actually think this is the best part of the night, just us four sitting here talking..." he'd whispered to her, his soft words carrying in the dark.

She could have made some jibe, laughed at him, written it down to being drunk, as if a sober Chuck would ever be so sentimental.

"Yeah," she'd said instead, smiling slightly. "Me too."

They eventually fell asleep like that, Serena's head resting against Nate's chest, her long legs sprawled across Blair and Chuck's lap. Blair had her feet curled up to her side, and her head had fell to rest on Chuck's shoulder, the soft strands of hair tickling his nose as Chuck's arm splayed out behind her head and his legs rested on the coffee table.

Blair supposed that's why Chuck never did throw out that couch. Though it had tear (from one of Serena's heels) and glitter stuck in the cracks (from a dress Blair had worn) and a drool stain (on one arm from when Nate passed out) . He had been adamant it was comfortable, and it had seen one, or more of them falling asleep on it throughout the years. It was a symbol of their friendship, the four of them. A symbol of simpler days where they could fall asleep in each other's arms and wake up the next day as comfortable in each other's company as they had been the night before. A symbol of comfort, of family of a bond that they thought death couldn't even break.

* * *

They sat in that suite, on that sofa, for the rest of the night, eventually falling asleep beside each other, snuggled close like they used to be. Shadows of their thirteen year old selves. And they all missed the fourth member of their group.

All three of them regret that they never showed him how much they needed him, how much they all appreciated those small moments of loyalty and support he had given them. And they regret that they never showed him how much he was loved.

None of them would ever be able to say goodbye. He lingered in their lives, a ghost of a memory. In every familiar thing they did, he was there with a sarcastic smirk, a biting comment, a distant presence haunting them all. They could never let him go, and even though time made memories fade, they would still remember the little things on the oddest of occasions. Something he had said, a look he had given, an old couch where he had sat...They missed him, they would miss him for the rest of their lives because none of them could ever let him go, they would always remember...

As time passes they may not think of him as much. They'll learn to smile again (eventually without guilt), learn to talk about trivial things (without longing), learn to live again (without fear). And eventually they may not think of him for a minute, an hour maybe even a whole day. And suddenly they will. They will remember him when having a drink, when sitting on an old couch, when entering a room, when talking, when laughing, when crying...

Years on and they will remember him when living.

* * *

_Chuck Bass died at the age of nineteen. He was shot in the back by a coward in Prague. _

_Chuck Bass left behind a mother, a brother and a sister. He left behind a best friend and the one girl he loved and who loved him. _

_He had been no saint, but despite his reputation as the devil himself, he was a promising brother, a promising friend and a promising lover. He was a promising boy who never got the chance to grow into a good man. His life was cut far too short, and there were so many people he had left behind and so many things he had left undone. _

_Chuck Bass died at the age of nineteen. _

_He never did manage to reach twenty. He never got to share his first legal drink with his three closest friends. He never got to propose, never got to have a wedding, never got to learn to let himself be truly loved and love in return. Never grew up, never had children. He never did get to be best man at his best friends wedding, never walked his sister up the aisle. He never got to watch his brother graduate. He never got to hug Lilly and tell her that she was the only mother he ever wanted to know. He never got to rectify some of his mistakes; he never got to forge relationships with people he didn't even known cared. _

_Chuck Bass never got to watch his best friend grow to be a good person, watch his sister grow to be content. He never got to watch the girl that he loved grow to be a woman. Never got to hear the people that loved him think it, feel it, say it, instead of now just crying it every day. He never had a chance to realise the 'what ifs'. _

_He was here for only a moment and then __**he**__ was gone._

* * *

If the people closest to Chuck Bass had a chance to summarise his life in one word, they probably would have said _regret._..

* * *

_Then I'll follow you into the dark_

* * *

**A/N: **

**Congratulations you have reached the end of 32 pages, I applaud you lol. **

**This is literally an epic. But I couldn't break it up, so here it is in all its twisted glory. My original idea from which I wrote 'What If'. I know this idea has been exhausted (so glad it's not reality btw) but this just won't leave me alone. It could probably do with more refinement but I couldn't bear to cut any of these scenes, hope it's not OC. Also seem to have a stupid formatting issue where the lyrics won't centre = (. The song is from Death Cab for Cutie, I will follow you into the dark (I took some liberties with the lyrics in one place). If you took the time to read it review it pretty please = ). **


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